


The words I've never been able to tell you

by Krohma



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Coma, Drama, Heavy Angst, Hospitals, M/M, One Shot, POV Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 10:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3566543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krohma/pseuds/Krohma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Castiel is in a coma for a year. Dean visits him every day and opens his heart to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The words I've never been able to tell you

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Les mots que je n'ai jamais su te dire](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/103676) by Haman0-chan. 



> This work is half-translation, and half-rewriting. Because normally the story doesn't takes place in this universe at all, and for other reasons too. I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep, and I needed to write something dark to calm down a little. There you go.
> 
> I checked the rape/non-con warning to be sure, because there actually are kisses and caresses in a non-con/dub-con way, but however nothing too "serious", and there isn't actual rape.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, language, lots of angsty feels, non-con kisses and caresses, character death, mention of minor character deaths, suicidal thoughts, suicide

_Autumn: "I remember that day, I thought you were gorgeous"_

  


It was only five o'clock but night was falling on Lawrence, covering the city in a black and cold coat. People were rushing to return home, where a fireplace and a hot bath were waiting for them patiently. A boy was running breathlessly on the still wet pavement from the dowpours of the previous day, his school bag weighing on his shoulders. The smile that he was displaying contrasted with the gloom and gray November. The wind was clawing his face covered in freckles and ruffling his dirty blond hair.

Dean Winchester had never been good at math but he still could count. Today would already been a year since his friend Castiel Novak was gamboling in dreamland. 365 days already. Time ran at breakneck speed, nothing could stop it. Time did not care about the wrinkles it gave to men, nor the disaster it could sometimes cause. Every second that went by, men approached death. Time didn't slow down, didn't stop. It continued to flow, insatiable. Life was decidedly ruthless, sometimes.

With obvious haste, Dean entered the lobby of the town hospital, out of breath but happy to finally be here. Heat gently wrapped him and he wasted no time at the reception, knowing the place by heart. It should be said that he came every day. He had spent last Christmas between these white walls, breathing the chemical odors of the endless and resonant corridors. This hospital was, somehow, his second home. A very few people loved to find themselves inside this building that shamelessly exhibited the pains of life.

Cancer, chemotherapy, surgical suites, families falling apart, medication carts, children sentenced by leukemia... who loved hospitals? No one but Dean Winchester. The young man of seventeen years old saw this place as the jewel case that protected his most precious stone. It was at the hospital that was Castiel. And because Cas was there, Dean could only love this place yet devilish and ruthless.

The blond caught the elevator and found himself quickly on the fifth floor of the establishment. Leaving wet footprints behind him -certainly had he stepped in a puddle-, he reached Castiel's room.

He pushed open the white door and therefore the incessant buzzing of voices and shoes squeaking on the linoleum disappeared. He found himself immersed in a religious silence, occasionally disturbed by the little "beep" of the respiratory machine. Still with this beaming smile on his lips, Dean closed the door and took off his leather jacket, ritual he was now accustomed to.

"Hey Cas." He said. "Slept well?"

Castiel didn't answer him, of course. People immersed in a deep coma didn't talk. Ever. However, it would appear that they heard. And they'd hear very well. Whistling, Dean sat on the chair near the bed and grabbed the hand of his friend. It was warm, unlike his own. This temperature change suddenly made him shiver as his absinthe green eyes were rediscovering the sleeping face of Castiel.

"Today, the day seemed interminable." He said, sighing a bit. "Classes came one after the other, people didn't stop complaining about futilities, the food of the cafeteria was inedible but that's no news. In addition, the teachers gave us a lot of homework, supposedly to prepare us for the finals, although we're only in November. Must say that it's the final year, they don't pull any punches. Everything's so much weirder without you. Everything's so much duller, Cas. My life has lost all color."

He paused a moment to listen to Castiel's breathing. Deep and regular, it still managed to calm Dean's terrified heart. In those moments, it seemed that Cas wasn't sleeping. Always "sleep". Never "coma". Yes to sleep, no to coma.

After all, didn't science say that everything that breathes is a living thing?

"Anyway." He started again. "Today was long. And, I miss you too. I couldn't wait to come to see you. You know, I found this old photo album, the one we 'd done the day just before your fifteen. We'd toured the city and photographed a bunch of things, stupid as wonderful. There was the photo of the candy store we loved so much, a picture of an old lady who was reading a book on a park bench, a picture of this old German Shepherd that you loved petting for hours, one of your mother preparing your birthday cake, and another of my brother and his girlfriend, Jess, when they were starting dating. I love all these photos. But there's one that I prefer. I asked your mother if I could take it. She started to cry. Didn't get why. I took it anyway. We had skipped school for the beach that Friday. You're standing, facing the sea, arms and face raised to the blue sky with no clouds that looks so much like your eyes and you're smiling. You have this bright smile, the one that makes my heart beat for all these years, that smile that makes me want to hold you against me. Why didn't I kiss you that day?"

His question remained unanswered. The room was now plunged into a harrowing dark. Only the moonlight illuminated Cas's face, making him even more pale, pale as a lifeless body.

"You know where I put this photo? I put it in a blue wooden frame, the one you gave me two years ago. You'd told me, laughing "Here! In this frame, you can put the picture of your girlfriend, well, if you find one someday"."

Dean's lips twitched into a smile.

"That's your picture therein." He continued in a trembling voice. "If this frame is designed to protect the picture of the person I love the most in the world then it's yours that must be there. This particular Friday will remain forever etched in my memory, Cas. I remember that day, I thought you were gorgeous. I regret so many things. I regret not having held you against me, I regret not having shared my beach towel with you, I regret not kissing you, I regret having gazed upon you at length with my cheeks stupidly red, I regret not having told you that I loved you."

He caught his breath. Too heavy with remorse, his forehead fell on the white and warm sheets. A medicinal smell rose to his nose, reminding him this harsh reality. He squeezed a little harder Cas's hand. It was warm. His own, still cold. Castiel's body was hot. He was breathing. He was living. He wasn't dead.

He would wake up.

"I'm telling you now, Cas." He resumed. "I love you. I always have. But does that still makes sense today?"

He felt a little pressure on his index and he jumped. This pressure was brief, lively, light, much like the caress of the wind on the skin in summer, fleeting and barely perceptible. It often happened, the impression that Cas was pressing his hand. His heart wanted only one thing: that he finally wakes up. Therefore, his brain relieved his pain by giving him false hope. It made the situation even more cruel. Damn brain.

Some wet thing rolled down his cheeks and Dean realized he was crying. Tears of hate and joy, tears acid and painful. Hatred towards this alcoholic who, not listening to his reason, at least if he had one, had ran over Castiel this afternoon in November, not even a month after the death anniversary of his mother. The joy that he's still alive, though asleep, the happiness of brushing him, dream that Dean had always nourished without daring to realize it, the joy in which plunged him this deep and quiet breathing. Happiness to be beside him, despite everything.

With the back of his sleeve, Dean dried his tears.

"Sorry." He whispered. "I don't want you to see me like that. If you could talk, you'd ask where the whole "no chick flick moments" thing is gone, or stuff like that. Hold on. Fight. Come back. Listen to my voice. Listen to my voice, Cas, I'm begging you. Because since you closed your eyes to dive into a black nothingness it's my world that has become dark. I need you so... turn around."

He sat up to leave a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Listen to my voice."

  


_Winter: "This burst of laughter you let out marked my life."_

  


25th December. Winter flakes were falling quietly on Lawrence, draping the city in a thick white coat. Gifts under the arm, many people were joining their families to celebrate Christmas in a dignified way. No doubt they would fill their stomach with a turkey and kill off their brain cells with good wine. The traffic was fluid, more than usual, the streets were almost deserted and businesses were closing up, eager to see their loved ones.

Dean was walking with a smooth and determined step as if the sidewalk belonged to him, his green eyes fixing his shadow mingle with those of the lamps that lit his way. His shoes were sinking into the snow, leaving white footprints behind. The wind blew a bit and he shuddered. He loved shuddering. He loved all those things that made him feel alive. Since Castiel was hibernating, every detail seemed important to Dean. The blowing wind, the sound of his steps sinking into the snow, the cold that gripped his hands and nose, the smell of food floating in the air, the taste of the donut he had just swallowed. All these little things that make us feel alive, that make us feel human.

The warmth of the hospital lobby was one of those little things that were so usual that they became insignificant.

Heart pounding, Dean entered Cas's room.

He entered what he called "their bubble". "Bubble" was more poetic than "hospital room" to him. It was a bubble of passion, of confidences. A bubble of happiness in the vast ocean that was his life. A bubble that was shining, which was glittering. A fragile bubble that threatened to explode... to explode at any time.

"Yo Sleeping Beauty!" He greeted him.

He took off his scarf and his coat. He approached the bed but didn't settle on the uncomfortable wooden chair. It was Christmas. He could make an exception. He removed his wet shoes and lay down beside Castiel. It was a good thing that the bed was large enough and that the occupant wasn't fat. Chuckling, Dean turned to see his friend's profile. Eyes closed and mouth half open, he actually seemed to sleep. If that damn pipe wasn't planted in his neck to remind him of this tragedy, Dean would feel soothed. A sharp pain took hold of his heart and he felt as if his myocardium were cutting one by one. With a sigh, he rested his head on Cas's chest as seeking for comfort there.

Reassured by Cas's heart beats against his ear, Dean closed his eyes.

"It's Christmas today." He said. "Snow on all Lawrence. Sam's with Jess, at her parent's, they say hi. You remember, the year before your accident? We'd been at the rink with Charlie, Anna, Sam and Jess. Charlie couldn't ice skate and spent her time falling and getting up. Everyone laughed at her but she didn't care. She even suspected us of having tampered with her skates. Anna, however, was gracious and moving on the ice with incomparable elegance, her red hair floating in the wind. Jess was teaching Sammy how to skate. It was so funny to see Mr. Perfect in that situation. He looked like Bambi when he made his first steps, you know, must be a moose thing. You... you, whether you fall or you fly on the ice, you were always beautiful. You were beaming so much you could have melt the ice under your feet. You always beam to me. Even in this white bed, even in the middle of that cold, dark room, even wearing that hideous nightgown, even with a hose in the neck... Even there, you're beaming, Cas."

He paused. He heard the regular "beep" of the apparatus connected to the hose. There were too many cruel things in this room to allow him to dream of the past. Their "bubble" became vulnerable over time.

Would it eventually burst, crushed by the weight of this harsh reality?

"I fell." He resumed. "No, worse, I fell flat on my face on the cold hard ground. And you, you laughed. You roared with laughter, your arms clutching your stomach. I looked up and I had... like... a blank, sort of. I saw and heard only you. You were laughing to tears, the tears rolling down on your cheeks the cold had turned pink. This burst of laughter you let out marked my life. I thought at that moment that I wanted to always hear you laugh that way and I'd do anything so you wouldn't cry anymore, I'd do everything to keep you away from the sadness that clouded your heart. I vowed to make sure that your heart is exactly like your eyes, a perpetually blue sky, and I'd never have left the gray clouds cover the sun that warmed it."

Beep, beep, beep. Always that damned "beep". Always that damned machine.

Fucking reality.

"Then you skated in my direction and you crouched beside me. Your face was so close to mine that I could feel your breath against my skin. You looked at me, this sparkling special glow deep in your blue eyes, and you smiled at me. And again, my heart jumped. "Dean, are you all right?". That's what you said. Of course I was. You were there, so close to me. I could only be all right. You took my hand to help me up. I didn't want to let it go. You still had that smile on your lips. Your smile brightened my days, Cas. Will you smile for me again?"

Beep, beep, beep.

Dean sighed. Outside, the wind was blowing strongly and seemed to bump against the window. An idea popped into his mind like lightning in the black sky. Still with a smile filled with hope on his lips, Dean rose from the bed, making it creak. He opened wide the PVC window. The icy breeze from December came into the room.

"Do you feel the wind, Cas? You feel the cold of winter?"

Perhaps he was hoping that these sensations would remind Castiel the beauty of the world to which he was turning his back. The world had, admittedly, an incredibly dark side. Wars, famines, the stupidity of people, pain, confusion, sickness, tears... but they shouldn't denigrate its bright side. Laughter, heart thumping, friendship, forgiveness, adrenaline surging through the veins, love, eyes shining at the sight of a special person, chocolate cake. Simply, life. And Castiel was _**not**_ running away from this life.

Dean lay back down beside him, letting a hand get lost in Castiel's dark hair. They had been recently cut. They were incredibly sweet. Smelled good. His torso clung to Castiel's side and he closed his eyes, his smell was intoxicating. He wasn't breathing the scent of morose drugs anchored in his gown, he was only aware of the smell of his skin. The heat that surrounded Castiel's body made him shiver and he put an arm around his waist to hold him against himself, nestling his face in the crook of his shoulder to pour a few tears.

"It's Christmas today, but I think I've already told you. Are my words reaching you, Cas? Have they even already? I wonder, sometimes. Do... gestures reach you? Do you still feel, where you are? Do you feel the wind caressing your skin?"

Dean's fingers wandered on his cheek.

"Do you feel my hand against your cheek?" He whispered. "I won't give you a t-shirt, a book or Placebo's last album this year. What's the point after all? I give you a kiss, Cas. A kiss that I hope will reach you... and bring you back."

Dean sat up and surrounded Castiel's sleeping face with his hands. His heart was pounding fiercely against his chest as to encourage him to perform this act he had never dared to try. "Go on! Do it!", it seemed to scream to him. Even miles away from him, Cas still intimidated him. His full and chapped lips he had been desiring for years and now he had discovered the sweetness of his hair, he could no longer do without. Delicately, he pressed his wet lips against Castiel's. This kiss transported him elsewhere and he couldn't take off from that mouth he had wanted for so many years.

His lips were dry but soft and slightly sweet, flavor he had imagined. Dean's trembling and uncertain fingers caressed his cheeks tirelessly, unable to detach from that satin-soft skin. Dean shuddered imagining Cas's hands wander on his back, running with passion. He imagined them so hard that he shivered. He had the distinct impression that the palms of one he loved were discovering his skin, making it tremble.

The brain was a veritable torture chamber. The worst of all.

He opened his eyes and met Castiel's closed eyelids. Rude return to reality. In a perfect dream, his emerald eyes would have been lost in the cerulean ocean. But it wasn't a dream. Just reality. Just a fragile bubble in which he liked to immerse.

Just a bubble that one day, would blow out in his face.

Dean pressed his forehead to Castiel's. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"Come back, Cas" He begged.

  


_Spring: "I thought that, maybe, love, it was you."_

  


It was sunny in this afternoon of April. The open window of the hospital room allowed the wind to sneak into the room. The curtains were moving discreetly, tickled by the slight breeze of spring. Gabriel had left half an hour ago. He came whenever he had the time, usually early in the morning so he could have a few hours alone with his brother before Dean arrives. They would stay a moment together, just the three of them, before Gabe had to go and leaves them alone. With a sharp blow, Dean closed the book he was reading for a good hour. He stretched like a cat and his lips curled into a bright smile when his eyes met Castiel's face. A memory among many other loomed in his head, suddenly accelerating the beating of his heart. Dean remembered this spring afternoon.

"You remember this particular Saturday, Cas? We were walking on the dirt trail that snaked through the forest, listening to the chirping of birds, breathing resin smells and crushing from time to time the leaves that were lying on the ground" He told. "I remember the expression on your face that day and how the wind was ruffling our hair. You seemed serene and carefree, as if nothing could break you. You were strong Cas, and I admired you."

Dean approached the chair to the bed, making its iron legs grate on the ground and put his head on the edge, next to Castiel's arm.

"We were walking so close to each other that sometimes, my hand brushed against yours. I wanted to intertwine my fingers to yours but I lacked the courage, as always. So I looked at you, heart loose and trembling hands. I was looking at you and I thought that, maybe, love, it was you. The sun was giving birth to brown reflections in your dark hair blown by the wind. The discreet smile displayed by your lips made me drunk with you, and I had only one wish: to hold you against me and kiss you endlessly. But, I've told you, I lacked the courage. Worse, it eluded me when you were standing next to me. But... I wanted so much to kiss you. Today, I regret not having done so."

Dean rubbed Castiel's hand with his index.

"At the end of the dirt road, there was a field of poppies. Endless red. We ran like mad in the midst of fragrant flowers, laughing like kids. You caught me by the hand and made me fell on the ground. I laughed. You ended up over me and my laughter suddenly fainted. Had you done it on purpose? How long our eyes have talked together? Forever, probably. Like always. I wished that time never stops. You smiled and you said "Your eyes are green like the grass. I'd like to be a bird to fly through them and land there". I didn't immediately understood what you were trying to tell me, but I think now, I have. I should have kiss you that day. At that moment. I should have put my hand on your neck and draw your face towards mine to discover your lips. Yeah, I should have. You think it's too late now, Cas?"

Dean didn't want to believe it, even though these words had escaped from his mouth. It couldn't be too late, if there was any justice in this world in agony then Cas had to wake up. Yes, life couldn't be so cruel as to permanently close the eyes of a boy of seventeen short years. He believed in life. He trusted it because ultimately, that could he do? He was hoping from his whole heart that wherever he was, Cas would hear his words filled with love. That was the only thing sure, after all. His words. There was nothing in the world more sincere than the love he felt for his "sleeping beauty with black hair" as he sometimes called him.

"Then, you lay beside me." Dean continued. "And it seemed so obvious to me. When I heard you humming the tune of "Knock on Heaven's Door", looking up at the sun, I realized that I loved you like crazy. I wish so much that our situations are reversed Cas... oh yeah, I wish that so much. I wish I'd see you smile again. I wish I'd hear your tinkling and hearty laughter again. I forgot its melody. I... wish so much I'd... see the singular gleams of your eyes again."

Dean bit his lower lip. He couldn't cry once more. Like an automaton, he sat up and put his face closer to Castiel's. He put his lips on his, as this vain Prince Charming who comes to wake his princess in a delicate kiss. Couldn't life be a fairy tale, for once? Dean was maybe hoping that this kiss would take his princess out of the darkness. But life wasn't a Grimm fairy tale, just an awful reality.

Castiel didn't open his eyes. And Dean didn't choke back his tears.

Sniffling quietly, the blond swept with the back of his sleeve the lukewarm salty drops that were sliding down his cheeks. A sad smile hovered at the corner of his lips.

"Hey Cas... Remember when Mr Shurley, our English teacher, asked us to write a poem. I never really liked writing and even less poetry, unlike you. I didn't know what to write, Cas. When I asked him for advice, you know what he'd said? "Find a source of inspiration and words will slip under your fingers, magically"." he said, imitating their former teacher.

Dean laughed.

"Then, of course, I came to see you. You're my Muse, Cas, you know that? You're... my... Muse. My reason for living. My everything. Without you, I'm nothing. So keep breathing, please."

Dean's veronese eyes lingered a moment on Cas's face before turning to his bag. He had kept said poem for all this time. This morning he had searched it and had brought it with him.

Dean found his poem. A few awkward and unassuming verses on a sheet that was lying at the bottom of his school bag. He read it aloud.

 

_"You are my Angel, someone who helps me_

_Believing in miracles again._

_An angel may not always come when I call_

_But when I have a need, you will come then"_

  


_Summer: "The sand that tumbled on your skin made me jealous."_

  


It was hot in this afternoon of July and Dean returned from the pool where he had spent several hours splashing in the water with his friends, Kevin, Ash and Jo. His dark blond hair were still dripping but would soon dry with the heat that crushed Lawrence.

Dean didn't really had fun. Castiel occupied his thoughts since the morning and he had only one desire: to see him. Actually, he didn't really had fun since the accident. The ritual that animated his daily life started again: he entered the hospital and went to Castiel's room. But today, something came to disturb his reassuring routine. He saw Jimmy and Naomi Novak, Castiel's parents, talking with a doctor.

Of course, he had already seen them here during his visits, that was normal. But right now, the sadness distorting their faces reflected the severity of the situation. Severity that Dean ignored haughtily, clinging to the flame that burned in him. Hope. Hope that Castiel would wake up, no matter how long it would take. The Novak didn't notice him when the passed, head bowed and ears attentive.

"We don't believe in his wake, Ms. Novak."

The words of this doctor rang in his head, cruel and heavy. They made his eardrums bleed. Unconsciously he ran, fleeing away from that gravelly and ruthless voice. He locked himself in Castiel's room.

Short of breath and mind messed he contemplated his beautiful asleep. Seeing lying on this bed, he couldn't imagine to live without him for a second. It was impossible that he flew to Heaven, leaving him behind. Castiel was the center of his life, his days were filled only with him and his nights were no exception as he passed them to dream of his friend waking up.

Castiel was his everything, the force that made him move forward, the energy that kept him standing. He meant more than everything else and Dean could never ever continue to advance on the path of life if Cas's hand detached itself of his own. It was just as inconceivable that a summer without sun or a winter without snow, although sometimes, nature was capricious.

Dean sighed, relieved that Castiel was still part of this world and was there, before him. He wiped the few salty drops dripping on his forehead and approached the bed. He didn't waste his time with unnecessary polite phrases such as "Hey, sleep well?" or "How you doing today?".

What was the point to waste time to say it when Castiel may not hear it?

He lowered himself and lifted a little the warm and numb body of Castiel to hold him against him.

"Don't leave me." He whispered. "Don't leave me Cas, I'm begging you. Don't make me lose you too, I won't get over it."

His nose got lost in Castiel's shock of hair, intoxicating himself with its sweet and soothing smell. The patient's heart was pounding quietly against Dean's chest. Quietly, unfortunately. Dean would however have liked to feel the heart of Castiel beating as quickly as his. This would have been a proof, tiny indeed, that he felt his embrace. But his heart wasn't racing. His skin wasn't shivering. His breath wasn't jolting. His arms fell slightly on the warm mattress, lacking their original force. His mouth wasn't seeking his own. Castiel wasn't here. Only his body was persisting. A body drained of any soul.

Of a combative nature, Dean didn't let despair invade him. As long as Castiel would breathe, he would keep hope. Hope made him move forward. Hope gave meaning to his life. What could he do other than hope, the heart in turmoil and solid guts, that Castiel finally opens his eyes, revealing their mesmerizing blue? Nothing. There was nothing else he could do. Simply because there was nothing else to do but wait patiently, eaten away by doubt. His helplessness was destroying him, driving him crazy. He hugged more strongly Castiel's frail body. His tears were crashing on the forehead covered with ebony strands.

"Cas... you remember that summer day?" He whispered. "It was incredibly hot and we had headed to the beach. Just you and me. We settled away, away from other tourists because if we were together, we didn't need anyone. The sun was burning our backs and making our bodies sweat. You were... you were so beautiful, Cas. You still are."

He lifted off from the dark-haired to contemplate him. His fingers wandered on the pale cheek that was against his chest, while a smile appeared on his lips.

"The sand that tumbled on your skin made me jealous. I proposed you to put sunscreen in your back, saying that with your opaline skin, you risked a famous sunburn" He continued. "Actually it was an excuse to touch you. That day, I could brush against your skin. Again and again. I discovered its delicate curves and intoxicating sweetness, its smell also. I would have liked to put my lips on it. I wanted to cover with kisses the hollow between your shoulder blades, where there was a discreet beauty spot."

Dean felt his cheeks flush.

"If I dared to... I..."

Gently, taking care to not hurt him and not move the wires that connected Castiel to the machine, he sat him up a little. Fortunately for him, Castiel's gown let his back in the open air. A mischievous and embarrassed smile stretched on Dean's lips as his hand wandered on the back of the dark-haired. His index finger stopped on the famous mole that had made him dream so much.

"I'm a pervert, Cas." The green-eyed whispered. "I'm taking advantage of while you sleep and if you remember it, I think you'll make me pay dearly for it when you awake."

His hand wandered, retracing the line of his spine.

"You're sweet, Cas." He whispered, eyes half-closed.

His lips pressed against Castiel's cheek, and they remained there glued a few seconds, soaking up of the taste of this so coveted skin. He could have thought that Castiel had awakened if his dangling arms began to encircle his neck. He pressed his body against Castiel's and let his mouth get lost in the softness of this fragrant neck which tickled his most secret desires.

His kisses full of tenderness went up to Castiel's ear.

"Hey Cas... if my kisses and my caresses didn't reach you, I'm going to feel offended. So... wake up... my angel." He whispered.

  


_Autumn: "I can't live in a world where you won't breathe."_

  


Dean pulled his leather jacket. The wind was blowing noisily outside, lowering the temperature. But neither wind, nor rain, nor snow could prevent him from travel the distance between him and Castiel. He opened the door and was surprised to find Naomi Novak, hand raised, on the doormat. Her face contorted with grief reflected the bad news that she carried with her.

"Mrs. Novak? Why are you here?" He questioned.

"I... I must talk to you, Dean."

"And I must leave." He tried to avoid.

"That won't be long."

Her hand gripped Dean's arm. He plunged into her big blue eyes flooded with warm tears. She didn't need to talk. He already knew what she wanted to tell him. With a sigh, he looked down, waiting for the torment.

"I'm listening." He whispered in a trembling voice.

"Dean... Castiel is going to leave us... Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" Naomi also whispered.

"You... you can't..."

"We are sorry... But we're going to.. to pull the plug in a few days so... Tell him goodbye."

"Shut up!" He shouted.

He pulled away from her grasp and glared at her with his shining eyes.

"You don't have the right!" He yelled. "Cas is your son!"

"Do you think it's easy for us? The children aren't supposed to leave first. But... Castiel... he..."

"Enough! I don't wanna hear you!"

His hands brutally pressed against his ears, covering Naomi's words. Tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He ran away.

Blinded by tears, he pushed a few passersby who were on their way, but didn't care. Nothing mattered to him now. Nothing... or almost. The rain began to fall. Lungs burning and legs trembling, Dean finally arrived at the hospital. He took the elevator, ignoring the curious glances turned to him. He crossed the hall with long strides and entered Castiel's room.

He approached the bed and fell against the body of his friend. The cold water dripping from his dark blond hair pierced Castiel's gown. Dean gave free reign to his tears.

"You know what your parents said, Cas?" He sobbed.

He sniffed quietly before straightening to caress Castiel's face. The softness of his skin made him shudder.

"They said you wouldn't wake up. That two years of coma is already too long. That they're going to pull the plug. Cas... you're going to die. And I... I can't do anything to avoid it."

He was fully aware of his powerlessness. See the person you love the most in such a condition and not being able to do anything else than watch them pass away, there's no worse torture. A wave of anger unfolded him and he clenched his fist. Anger and sadness traversed him, a very dangerous combination for him who was losing the most precious being to him. A threatening combination, able to lead him in a terrible self-destruction, able to bring him to the point of no return. Dean was lost. He knew it.

"I can't live in a world where you won't breathe." He whispered, sobbing. "It's like asking a fish to live on land. My air, it's you, Cas. Without you, life isn't worth the shot."

Dean's forehead met Castiel's but his eyes didn't plunge into the endless sky blue. Never again would they plunge into it. It was over. Dean's fingers brushed against his cheeks and then went down to his lips to trace the subtle curves.

"Cas... I love you. It's a shame that it took you to be in a coma for I to confess it all. Bullshit."

He had used it. He had used the word "coma". Dean had lost faith. Despite the despair in which he was drowning, a slight smile stretched on his lips.

"We'll meet again soon, Cas. Soon, we'll be able to shake hands again. And I'll be able to hear you laugh again."

  


XxXx

  


There were many ways to take your own life but Dean wanted it to be quick. He didn't want to suffer more than needed. He grabbed a bottle of scotch and a few boxes of sleeping pills. As an automaton devoid of any soul, he lay on his bed. He raised his eyes to a picture of him and Castiel. The last photo they had taken together. The last time he had seen him smile. He still remembered the words he had spoken to him before going home.

"Bye Cas! See you tomorrow!"

Why hadn't he confessed his love? Why? Why did the last thing Castiel hear from him was "Bye Cas! See you tomorrow!" ? He bitterly regretted not having opened his heart to him. He regretted it. If he were to give valuable advice to those who, too timid, don't dare open their heart, he'd simply tell them not to fear love. He'd tell them that they must confide, confess everything, because when you leave the person you love without worrying about the future, you may not be aware you won't see them again. Ever. Maybe the next day won't happen. Maybe that particular person at our heart will cross the road and will be hit by an unconscious drunk driver. The future is uncertain. We must enjoy of those we love as long as we can and above all, repeat them every day how much they matter to us. 'Cause the error is to believe that every day is similar.

Dean had also believed that. When he had said goodnight to his mother. When he had argued with his father. When he had said "Bye Cas! See you tomorrow!", he had also believed, perhaps naively, that tomorrow would be banal. He had fervently believed that the next morning at eight o'clock sharp, Castiel would be in front of his house with a smile, and that they would go to school together. But the next day, Castiel didn't come. Dean was told that he was in a coma. The next day had been messed up. The everyday life suddenly disappeared, giving way to another, much darker. Today, Dean regretted having considered the next day for granted. He regretted not having open to Castiel, not having covered his skin with kisses, not having discovered the body pleasures with him. He regretted so many things but now, it was too late. In life, there's no turning back, is it? Life never gives a second chance.

He grabbed the sleeping pills and swallowed them quickly before doing the same with the alcohol bottle. He emptied it in one go. His eyelids grew heavy and contemplate this stupid shot became an ordeal. He promised himself that in the next world, he would confess to him. Yes, he'd tell him everything.

Dean closed his eyes, not fighting anymore.

His hand fell into the void and the photo hit the ground, light as a feather.

Life left his body.

Sitting on the bed in Castiel's room, Naomi Novak was crying silently. She was addressing a last prayer to God, asking him for the umpteenth time to save her beloved son. Jimmy was waiting in the entrance hall. They would soon take the direction of the hospital to end Castiel's days. She perfectly imagined her husband with his brown overcoat, leaning against the door, holding back tears. He was a man and was one of those who believed that men never cried. Gabriel was already at the hospital, probably in tears, too. He loved his little brother so much. Everyone loved Castiel. He didn't deserve this. If there was any justice in this world, if there truly was a God or some higher power, it was time to prove it.

The phone rang and made her jump. She swallowed hard and got up to reach her room. Hesitantly, she went to the dresser where the machine was uttering shrill cries. With a trembling hand, she picked up.

"He... Hello?" She spluttered.

"Mrs. Novak?"

"Y... yes?"

"This is Dr. Talbot. I'm calling from the hospital."

Naomi's eyes widened. She collapsed on the bed, still holding the handset, and put a hand to her mouth.

"Castiel Novak just opened his eyes."

 


End file.
